Honoring the Dead
by Storyteller's Dream
Summary: Honor thy Father, Honor thy Mother, Honor thy Brother, Sister, and Lover.  Honor thy Son, and thy Daughter.  Honor thy family and One Another.  A series of unrelated one-shots.  Please read and review.
1. Honor Thy Father

Name: Storyteller's Dream

Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft.

Title: Honoring the Dead

Rating: T

Pairing: None

Notes: I don't know who wrote the poem in the summary, but for some reason it made me think of this story. This story will be mostly Lore Characters with a few of mine or a friend's mixed in. A great deal of these have my two favorite Highlords, Darion Mograine and Tirion Fordring. Neither get enough love. I'm sorry if these seem rushed, I think I'm a little rusty.

None of these One-shots are related.

Summary: Honor thy Father, Honor thy Mother, Honor thy Brother, Sister, and Lover. Honor thy Son, And thy Daughter. Honor thy Family and One Another. A collection of one-shots about Honoring the Dead.

_Honor thy Father…_

The halls were darker than he remembered but the stench was still the same. He pulls a nearby torch off the wall before glancing over his shoulder to see if anyone is paying attention. No one is as Tirion Fordring is commanding the members of the Ashen Verdict to set up barricades. He approves of Tirion's orders; though Kel'Thuzad is supposed to be dead and Naxxramas abandoned, Darion Mograine is anything but convinced.

Not that his reasons for coming to Naxx have anything to do with the Ashen Verdict's. Tirion has come to take the flying citadel down whereas Darion's mission is more personal. He knows that his father's body is still here in Naxx. Kel'Thuzad and Baron Rivendare took great pleasure in reminding him when he was still a member of the Scourge. So he has come to take his father's body back home, back to lie in the soft brown earth next to his beloved wife and mother that Darion has never known, Elena.

He shakes himself from his thoughts and starts down one of the halls. He knows that Tirion is too busy to notice his absence which is exactly what he wants. There are some things that a son must do for his father. He remembers that he should call at least one Death Knight to his side, but decides against it. There is nothing in Naxx that he cannot handle.

His steps echo on the blood and slime stained floor as he goes deeper into the flying castle. If Tirion had asked him, he might have told the older man how to take Naxx out of the sky, but that would mean giving up secrets on how to take out Acherus and he didn't trust that the Alliance King, Varian wouldn't try to force Tirion's hand especially if Darion didn't side with him against the Horde.

He knows that he has to stop thinking such thoughts or he will be open for an attack by anything left in this stinking hell-hole. His steps abruptly stop when he steps on the leg of a spider. Looking down he knows that this leg belongs to Maexxna, the largest spider he has ever known. Sneering he passes it, thinking that the adventurers could have been a little neater when they killed the creatures. But during his attempt to rescue his father, being neat was not the first thing on his mind.

"So… you've come to finish the job?"

Darion freezes at the weary voice in the darkness. He raises the torch to see the nearly torn remains of Faerlina, the Grand Widow.

"I see that the adventurers are getting careless; not bothering to check and see if you're really dead." Darion's voice echoes as he draws one of his runeblades.

"Perhaps… but you of all people should know that these walls hold many secrets, secrets as to raises up those who have died so many times." The woman says still resting against the wall. "You really are a handsome young man Darion… oh we could have been a wondrous team."

Darion's frown becomes darker. He had heard that Faerlina had taken a liking to him and did his very best to stay away from her. She was much like a black widow, she would drain you of your very essence when she kissed you and Darion had no interest in her embrace.

"Why are you here Darion?" Her words echo the chamber, making him believe she is trying to trap him.

"To recover what's mine."

"Your father's corpse?"

Darion nods.

"Seek out Zeliek; he knows where Rivendare and the Master hid it. Now if you don't mind, since our real Master, Arthas, the Lich King is dead, would you send me on?" Darion severs her head from her body and continues on out the door.

"He is not my Master, Faerlina."

Footsteps echo once more and he can hear people ahead of him. He knows that these people are not the Ashen Verdict; they would not leave Tirion's care and the Ashbringer's protection. No these are more Death Knights, created by the Scourge to serve Arthas. But now that Arthas is dead, they have no purpose.

"The Master will live again!"

Darion knows that annoying voice. It's Instructor Razuvious and Darion is pleased to know that he can have the Instructor's head. It will be payback for all the times that Razuvious has gone against him in Acherus and even for the deaths of several Knights of the Ebon Blade.

"We will march on Icecrown Citadel and take our Lord's body from them! We will raise him and forge Frostmourne anew!" Cheers answered the insane man's rambles as Darion sets the torch in the wall mount.

"Right now, our Master's murderer is here and we must take revenge against him and the traitor Mograine who is-"

"Right here!" Darion shouts drawing attention to him. From a void of power, Darion draws the mighty axe, Shadowmourne and leans it against his shoulder.

"And Tirion wasn't the only one who had a hand in Arthas' death, meet Shadowmourne, the axe that severed his spine."

"KILL HIM!" Razuvious screams as waves of Death Knights rush the Highlord of the Ebon Blade.

Darion smiles.

Death.

It has claimed these souls once more as they could not hold out against the combined power of a Highlord and Shadowmourne. These bodies were weak, unable to fully understand the power they wielded. He doesn't mourn them, watching as they fall on his blade though some don't even make it that far.

"If this is the best your training as to offer Razuvious, you are severely lacking something." Darion goads the Instructor as he swings Shadowmourne to clean off the excess blood.

"They were just pawns. Pawns to wear you down." Razuvious declares. It pisses Darion off more; after all he had been a pawn of the Lich King. Sent to Light's Hope Chapel to die.

But the Lich King made a mistake, just like Razuvious.

"And here I thought I was going to get a fair fight." The Highlord sneers before attacking. "A pity I won't grant you one!"

Darion knows that he is nothing like he was before his redemption. He knows that he has limits now, thanks to the consist annoying lectures he gets from Tirion Fordring. But the Instructor has made something break inside him, just by telling him that the trainee Death Knights were just pawns.

Razuvious fights him with all the knowledge he possesses but in the end, Darion is victorious, and it's not just because of Shadowmourne.

"So… you beat me." Razuvious says as he gasps for air. Darion notices his eyes flicker to somewhere behind Darion and the Highlord now senses someone is behind him. He whirls around, before realizing his mistake of leaving Razuvious with an opening. But he doesn't have to worry… the shadow is an initiate that plunges her own sword with enough strength to pierce the floor below into Razuvious' chest.

"Traitor!" He roars as blood trails down his chin.

"No," the Human Death Knight says, "I am vengeance. You murdered my family and me. Now I get to return the favor."

Razuvious dies without another word leaving the initiate to stare at the Highlord and vise versa. She pulls her blade out and inspects it for a long moment before sheathing it and holding out her hand.

"Windoryn." She says it simply, it's her name.

"Darion." He takes her hand, prepared to kill her if she should turn on him. She stares at his frozen blue orbs and blinks slowly.

"I'm hoping I look as well preserved as you. Anyways, I guess… unless you're dying to kill me, I could some training." She quirks her mouth in a strange grin at her own sour humor.

"You need serious training with that blade. You sucked all the fun out of revenge." He creates a portal to Acherus, one that he'll create again soon. "Take this portal and tell Lady Alista, Darion Mograine says to train you. Follow orders or _I'll_ kill you."

"Gee everyone's a critic." Windoryn mutters as she vanishes through the portal. Darion can feel his eyebrow raising.

"I must be growing soft." He finally grunts and returns Shadowmourne to the void he keeps it and continues his journey.

Its not long before he reaches his desired location. Glancing around he can see that nothing has truly changed. Well almost nothing. He can make out the destroyed forms of Thane Korth'azz and Lady Blaumeux against one wall. Baron Rivendare, oh how he wishes he could spit on the corpse of that pompous fool. But he is above the petty act and instead begins to search for the one corpse he cannot find, Zeliek.

"Zeliek! I know you're around here." He finally calls out in annoyance. "I've come for my father's body and I won't leave without it."

"The Light… it still answers my call." Darion hears before a feeling of intense pain rips through him. Death Knights do not normally feel pain and Darion is no exception, however one thing can bring a Death Knight to his or her knees and that is Holy magic.

"You must flee Darion! The Master still lives!" It is Sir Zeliek, standing in the shadows, more healed than Faerlina.

"I don't think so! I came for my father's body. I won't leave!" Darion withstands another blast of Light before charging Zeliek, knowing that he was well-versed in long range attacks and weak at close up. Zeliek holds his own for a long time against the Ebon Blade Highlord, but in the end it is no contest. As Darion severs his arms from his body and one leg, the Light-wielding Death Knight surrenders.

"Kel'Thuzad is still alive. He has your father's body… intending on forcing him back into the service of the Scourge." Blood flows freely from Zeliek's body as Darion's runes drink deep.

"I freed my father's soul to the Light when I found his soul shard on Arthas' body." The blades form an X at Zeliek's throat. "I won't allow anyone to take him from the Light."

The blades slice and Zeliek falls, truly dead as Darion steps over his body. The Highlord will find Kel'Thuzad and make the sure that the Arch Lich never finds his way back from the Twisting Nether.

There is a hidden chamber above where the Horsemen rest. Darion has known that it was there for a long time but now figures that the chamber holds something important, he now suspects its where the Lich has hidden his phylactery and possibly, Alexandros.

He just has to find the entrance.

The wind catches his cloak and pushes him towards a dark corner. Darion feels as if there is a guiding presence and he will do what it asks. He feels the wall, sensing something that he cannot see. There are abilities that he has which he has never spoken of, things that he can do that he pretends that he can't. Gathering some of that power within himself he unleashes it on that corner and drives a hole through the wall. As he steps through the hole he can see the phylactery… and a body dressed in red plate.

Alexandros Mograine.

Darion has found his father's body.

He steps through the hole looking for the Lich and knows that this is a trap. This was too easy. As soon as he enters, the hole vanishes and he draws Shadowmourne from the void once more.

"Where are you Kel'Thuzad? I know you're here." Darion hisses as he makes his way to dais.

"So the little Mograine misses his daddy and feels the need to find his body?" Kel'Thuzad sneers from what seems to be all around Darion. "Pathetic."

"No, it's pathetic that you hang on to a cat! That's pathetic." Darion goads trying to find his nemesis. Why can't he sense the Lich? Why does he feel weaker…?

"Feeling weak Highlord? The spells that you cannot see are draining your power. Soon you'll be as weak as you were on that battlefield not so long ago. That fool Fordring seeks to bring now my Naxxramas! Well he'll fail too!"

Darion now sees the Lich and lunges for him just to be blasted back. Indeed when he creates a shield against the Lich's spells it is weak and collapses before it does any protection. Darion grits his teeth and leaps and lunges away from the spells and brings Shadowmourne down where the phylactery is.

But it fails; the phylactery is shielded and only pushes the axe off to the side. Darion's hate grows and he summons ghouls, something he is often loath to do. The ghouls look to Kel'Thuzad and attack, being destroyed as soon as they touch the Lich. But in the mass of flailing limbs, Darion emerges and strikes the Lich.

"Treasonous bastard!" The Lich spats.

"I'm pretty certain my parents were married before they had me." The Highlord roars as he swings again. The shield fades from the Lich and Darion continues to swing even as he feels himself getting weaker. Kel'Thuzad is right; Darion has become the weak boy that attempted to defeat him at Light's Hope. If Darion could not defeat him with the Ashbringer, what chance did he have now?

The momentary lapse of concentration is all Kel'Thuzad needs to blast him across the chamber and free Shadowmourne from his grip.

"How the mighty have fallen." The Lich crows and Darion knows that he cannot reach his weapons in time to save him. He lies there and watches the Lich advance before noticing something odd.

His father's body… is missing!

He feels rage once more, as he struggles to his feet. The spell is on Kel'Thuzad's bony finger tips… as his hands are separated from his wrists.

"What is this?" The Lich screams. A body of red plate now stands between Darion and his would-be destroyer. The body… of Alexandros.

"What? How?"

"I won't let you harm my son anymore Lich!" Alexandros shouts as he hurls Shadowmourne at the phylactery. The powerful axe, the legendary weapon that severed the spine of the Lich King cracks through the shield and destroys the Lich's tool that made him invincible. Immediately Kel'Thuzad begins to weaken. A bright flash of light, the Ashbringer wielded by Fordring severs Kel'Thuzad's spine and destroys the Lich once and for all.

But Darion does not see it. No, instead when the light fades he is once more the powerful Highlord of the Ebon Blade, the most powerful Death Knight in and out of Azeroth… and he holds his father's body and weeps.

The Knights of the Ebon Blade. Eternal Guardians of Azeroth now. Today they form an Honor Guard for the First Ashbringer, for their Highlord's father. They consider this an honor.

They have gathered at the remains of Darion's childhood home to bury the Ashbringer's casket. Darion Mograine stands off to the side along with Highlord Tirion Fordring, the only living person allowed in this ceremony. Darion knows that his father would want it this way.

The initiate Windoryn's family once did headstones for the dead and she designed one for Alexandros and Elena. Darion gave credit were credit was due; the Ashbringer entwined with a rose above his parent's name was exactly the right touch.

As Thassarian and Koltira bury the casket containing Alexandros' body, Darion feels a sense of peace. He glances at the grave, farther away from his parents but close as well. Renault's grave. His brother, the traitor that set in motion the events that created him, the Death Knight Highlord of the Ebon Blade. There would never be a grave for him here. But that didn't matter because his father was home.

"Welcome home, Dad." He whispers softly and feels a breeze brush against him once more.


	2. Honor Thy Mother

Name: Storyteller's Dream

Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft.

Title: Honoring the Dead

Rating: T

Pairing: None

Notes: I don't know who wrote the poem in the summary, but for some reason it made me think of this story. This story will be mostly Lore Characters with a few of mine or a friend's mixed in. A great deal of these have my two favorite Highlords, Darion Mograine and Tirion Fordring. Neither get enough love. I'm sorry if these seem rushed, I think I'm a little rusty.

None of these One-shots are related.

Summary: Honor thy Father, Honor thy Mother, Honor thy Brother, Sister, and Lover. Honor thy Son, And thy Daughter. Honor thy Family and One Another. A collection of one-shots about Honoring the Dead.

_Honor Thy Mother…_

He doesn't know where her body is and it's a burden to him. He killed her. Granted he did it under the Lich King's orders but Thassarian still bears the burden of what he has done. He doesn't know how to rid himself of the guilt but it's eating at him and affecting his performance. He wonders dimly how long Varian will let him stew in his guilt before killing him.

"Varian _knows_ better than to kill my Death Knights." Thassarian turns to find Darion Mograine, Master of Acherus and Highlord of the Ebon Blade standing behind him with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Thassarian had spoken the words out loud.

He wants to say something, but Darion's cold gaze seems to freeze his voice.

"You have a visitor. A very… annoying visitor. Currently she is annoying Thalanor and while I find that hilarious beyond measure," Thassarian highly doubted that, "you should go see her before he throws her off the balcony."

"Yes, my lord." Thassarian is quick to obey his Highlord and rush past him, never noticing the softening in his gaze.

Seeing his sister make over a bone gryphon made him want to question his sanity. But it is true; Leryssa is indeed standing there cooing to a gryphon that is eating up the attention. Off to the side, Thalanor sneers at her and she ignores it, something that she never used to.

"Leryssa! Why are you here?" He calls to her. She leaves to gryphon to throw her arms around his waist and hug him tightly. She overlooks the fact that he's dead and he can't help but feel blessed for it. Many other Death Knights cannot say the same.

"Can't I come see my brother?" She asks her tone playful.

"Well… I didn't think you'd come to Acherus."

"I didn't know how else to get to you. I was met by a cute Death Knight, even if he does glare a lot. I told him I didn't care if he was the Highlord or not, I wanted to see my brother and I would do so."

Thassarian didn't have to guess that she was indeed talking about Darion and wondered if the scowl on Darion's face had something to do with being called 'cute'.

"I see…"

She playfully batted at his armored chest before turning back to the gryphon who demanded attention once more.

"I wanted to show you something now." She sounds light-hearted but he can hear the pain in her voice.

"Then show me." After all, he had nothing better to do with his time.

Leryssa haggled with Grimwing for two bone gryphons to take them to Light's Hope. Thassarian frowns finding it odd that she has no fear of any Death Knight, even members of the Horde.

"Why should I fear them? Highlord Mograine says that there will be no fighting in Acherus and therefore there will be no fighting." Leryssa says as they land and watch the gryphons get off the ground as fast as their bone wings can carry them. The Argent Crusaders sneer at him, but the protection that prevented them from fighting in Acherus did not protect them here and Leryssa punched the Paladin's nose in.

Argent Crusaders might have taken offense if Highlord Fordring had not come to her aid. Waving the two of them away, the aging Paladin begins to lecture the younger ones about respect for Light's Hope Chapel's unspoken protectors.

"You didn't have to hit him." Thassarian tells her as they walk through the graveyard, confused as to why they were here.

"Yes I did. He made a pass at me before I went up to Acherus. I think I might ask Highlord Mograine for a place up there. I could cook or repair armor or something." She mutters the last part which Thassarian doesn't hear. He's thinking about talking to that Paladin himself.

"We're here."

Leryssa's voice jars him and he stops to look down. There are two unassuming graves here. His eyes widen and he cannot believe it. The graves are those of his parents. He reads his father's name… Killoren and that of his mother Vivian.

"Leryssa…?"

"After Lordaeron's fall, some of the fallen were brought here by the Scarlet Crusade and those who would be known as the Argent Dawn. Mother was among them because Willem survived." She held out a chain to her brother. Their mother's necklace.

"Mother forgives you Thassarian. But she won't forgive you if you don't move on. Maybe… start a family. I don't know if Death Knights can father children, I've never asked, but there are orphans and there is someone out there for you." Leryssa wrapped her arms around her older brother, ignoring the cold that drifted off his armor, the fact that he did not breathe air or have a beating heart.

"Honor mother and move on."

He holds his little sister close, feeling the warmth and the heartbeat; feeling her lungs inhale and exhale air. Perhaps he could move on…

After he talks to a certain Paladin.


	3. Honor Thy Brother

Name: Storyteller's Dream

Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft.

Title: Honoring the Dead

Rating: T

Pairing: None

Notes: I don't know who wrote the poem in the summary, but for some reason it made me think of this story. This story will be mostly Lore Characters with a few of mine or a friend's mixed in. A great deal of these have my two favorite Highlords, Darion Mograine and Tirion Fordring. Neither get enough love. I'm sorry if these seem rushed, I think I'm a little rusty.

None of these One-shots are related.

Summary: Honor thy Father, Honor thy Mother, Honor thy Brother, Sister, and Lover. Honor thy Son, And thy Daughter. Honor thy Family and One Another. A collection of one-shots about Honoring the Dead.

_Honor thy Brother…_

Ghostlands.

Once a beautiful land and now it is full of ghosts. He remembers it though. He remembers what it once looked like back when he was living and had a brother.

His baby brother… Faltora.

He shakes himself free of his thoughts and concentrates on the mission at hand. Besides that was another life for him.

He is Koltira Deathweaver, Knight of the Ebon Blade and General of the Horde.

Something about that title just makes him cringe and flinch as he rides Bloodmist towards An'owyn. Lor'themar Theron has spoken to him of mysterious disappearances and ghosts within the area around the shattered High Elf temple. In a gesture of goodwill, Koltira volunteered to check the rumors out. But Koltira had a more… personal reason for coming to An'owyn. Here is where his beloved younger brother was killed and he really does want to know if someone has buried him, buried Merriel.

He reins Bloodmist to a halt when something catches his senses. There is undead here and not the average ones. He knows this because it's the abilities the Lich King gifted… cursed him with that is reacting. There is hate, fear, and despair. He knows that he is close to whatever is attacking people out here. Dismounting from his Deathcharger he walks to the temple with his great sword, Byfrost in his hand. Whoever is killing is going to get a rude awakening when he takes on a Knight of the Ebon Blade.

The interior of the temple still stands as it did the day he first met Thassarian, his battle brother in undeath. The Scourge has no interest in gold or valuables. Koltira glances around him, looking for anything that might give him a clue as to what is attacking the people and his senses.

The attack comes from nowhere and he barely manages to deflect it. A sword without a body, strikes him from his left. He slices through it; the strength of magic within Byfrost is stronger than the Que'dorei blade.

"Come out and face me you coward!" He snarls looking around the thick gloom for his attacker.

"Who dares disturb us? Tis the Scourge!" The voice is familiar but he cannot place it as another sword, this time much stronger comes from the gloom.

"I am Koltira Deathweaver of Acherus! Knight of the Ebon Blade! Whoever you are, come out and face me for I am no Scourge!" The Death Knight ignites the power within him and calls out the fury of Frost, leaving the temple sheathed in ice. No one would get in or out without his permission. He waits for the attack, knowing that it should come.

"Koltira?"

This voice he recognizes, this voice haunts him in his lull time, when he is between awaking and sleeping. It is the sound of his brother's voice. It is Faltora.

"Brother… is it really you?"

"Faltora?" He lowers Byfrost and his guard very little as he searches for his brother in the gloom.

Faltora is dead.

He knows this.

And yet…

From the gloom a shape appears. It is his brother… isn't it? There are shapes behind him, one he knows is Merriel. He knows at the one who first spoke is her now. She stares at him much like his brother, as if she cannot believe her eyes.

"It cannot be you. You are dead. We saw you die."

Koltira frowns. He remembers well that they died before he did.

"Brother, you are wrong. You and Merriel, you and everyone in this temple died before me. The Scourge killed you. I was killed at in Silvermoon. But the Lich King is dead. Brother you are dead; it is time for you to move on." He speaks gently to them, noticing their confused looks. He realizes that even though Arthas came by this way, he never took their souls and they have been trapped here in An'owyn. Now he understands. The disappearances are these souls reliving their final battle with the Scourge. Only the people that disappear are not the Scourge and if he's not mistaken are taken into this fold to fight a battle they never battled before.

"No… no you are not Koltira! My brother died! We live on!" Faltora screams as he launches into an attack against his own brother. Koltira can only defend unwilling to hurt the soul of his brother, if that is even possible. Byfrost wants to attack Faltora, to attack the Que'dorei defenders that are mixed with the lost souls. Koltira will not harm these innocent souls.

"Stop Faltora! Stop it-"

The attack stops as a spell of Light shoves the souls away. Koltira turns wondering how the Paladin could have gotten through his Frost Shield and gets his answer when he sees who the Paladin is.

Highlord Tirion Fordring.

The Ashbringer glows as if to warn the souls away from it's current bearer as the aging Paladin steps into the halls of the once beautiful temple. He currently is eyeing the structure and paying no mind to the souls that spin around wishing to get closer to the Paladin and the Death Knight he has saved.

"Your brother died here didn't he?" Tirion asks softly though his voice echoes the once-hallowed halls. "I'm sorry Death Knight. It is very easy to forget that you were once living and had a family. These souls are not aware that they are dead."

"I figured that out without your help, Highlord." Koltira cannot help but sneer at the old man. Tirion pins him to his spot with a glare that Koltira has seen him give Darion many times. Only problem is… Darion's immune to them and he's not.

"Tell me Koltira, how do you think you are going to put your brother to rest?"

"I do not know Paladin."

"Find his body, Koltira. Find it and bury it on the hallowed ground outside. Thassarian was able to cross the hallowed ground but Arthas was not. Arthas gave himself to the evil that he was. Just like you, Thassarian did not."

"His body is rotten by now and what about the others?" Koltira snaps angrily. Tirion simply holds the Ashbringer up and the light that shines reveals what Koltira could not see as the souls back away.

Bodies. Rotting corpses that even the souls could not see. But they see now. They see and know now that Koltira has known all along. They are dead. The Ashbringer shows what a mysterious enchantment has hidden.

"Our bodies…" One soul whispers.

"We are dead." Another whimpers.

"How could we have not known?" Someone cries.

Koltira can see Merriel is standing over her body, the dagger still in her eye. But Faltora is not there. Glancing around, Koltira notices the soul moving towards the door.

"Go talk to your brother." The Ashbringer advises. "I will speak to everyone here."

Koltira does not wait for anyone to stop him. He rushes for the door, seeing the temple in it's true state. Yes the temple stands, but it is nothing, a hollowed out thing of rock and paint. Outside, Bloodmist stomps unhappily next to the Ashbringer's beloved horse, Mirador. Two Argent Crusade Paladins sit in their saddles and do not move though they eye Faltora and Bloodmist warily.

"Faltora wait!" Koltira calls after the soul that is walking towards the exact place his body fell. Now Koltira can see what the Ashbringer's spell has broken. The world has not recovered from the Lich King's attack like he thought. Bodies, though decayed skeletons still litter the ground. But Faltora is staring at one skeleton. His own. Cut in half by an Abomination's chain-blade.

"I remember now." Faltora says as Koltira stops running to his side. "Merriel died and I went into a rage. You tried to stop me, you called me a fool. Then the Death Knight… I tried to kill him but I failed. He stopped from killing me… and I died minutes later."

"Yes. Thassarian stayed his blade. You died after and I… I tried to recruit Thassarian to fight against his Master. But he could not and soon I joined him. Faltora, you must move on, my brother."

"And you now call this, this Thassarian brother?" Faltora turned to his brother with tears that glimmered in his eyes. "Now in my stead?"

"No one will ever take your place in my heart, beating or unbeating. Thassarian is my Brother in Arms. You are my brother in blood, flesh, and soul." Koltira said softly. "It is time for you to move on to the Light. With everyone else. I plead for your forgiveness Faltora. Please, brother, forgive me for not being there for you."

Tears rain down the Death Knight's face as he watched his brother attempt to embrace him. He could not, the Ashbringer's spell made him incorporeal to Koltira.

"I have always forgiven you my brother. Always. Take care of my body and your other brother okay?" Faltora whispers in the Death Knight's ear as he fades from sight.

"I will Faltora. I will."

"I see, so the disappearances were the ghosts acting out their last battle." Lor'themar Theron says after he listens to Koltira recount his tale. Though his advisors do not look convinced, Lor has seen things he cannot explain since he has for himself gone to An'owyn and barely survived. He runs his finger over his unseeing eye and wonders if he should tell the Death Knight what he has learned or send him back to Acherus so he doesn't face any more pain.

Knowing that the Highlord of Argent Crusade is waiting in the outer rooms and that one of his Advisors might tip off the Banshee Queen, he has no choice but to tell the Death Knight what Garrosh Hellscream has planned for him.

"General Deathweaver, Warchief Hellscream has asked for you to go to Andorhal and assist Sylvanas in the taking of the city. Another Death Knight… Thassarian is leading the Alliance Forces."

"I will assist the Warchief and Queen Sylvanas all I can…" Koltira's tone is neutral but Lor'themar can read between the lines.

_For the last time._

Lor'themar, a veteran of the Northrend war against Arthas has seen the two together and he cannot blame the Blood Elf.

"Remember the Sunwell then."

The Death Knight leaves not once looking at anyone, not even Tirion Fordring as he passes. The Paladin seems to expect it and does not take offense. He watches the Death Knight leave, knowing he will respect his brother's last wishes.


	4. Sister

Name: Storyteller's Dream

Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft.

Title: Honoring the Dead

Rating: T

Pairing: None

Notes: I don't know who wrote the poem in the summary, but for some reason it made me think of this story. This story will be mostly Lore Characters with a few of mine or a friend's mixed in. A great deal of these have my two favorite Highlords, Darion Mograine and Tirion Fordring. Neither get enough love. I'm sorry if these seem rushed, I think I'm a little rusty.

None of these One-shots are related.

Summary: Honor thy Father, Honor thy Mother, Honor thy Brother, Sister, and Lover. Honor thy Son, And thy Daughter. Honor thy Family and One Another. A collection of one-shots about Honoring the Dead.

_Sister…_

The ground is familiar and at the same unfamiliar to her. She hasn't been here in such a long time. But this is neutral territory now. At least for what she wishes. Her Rangers are watching the surrounding grounds, untrusting that her guest will not attack her.

Vereesa Windrunner cannot help but shift from foot to foot as she waits for her sister to come. Honestly she wonders if Sylvanas will come but. Her one guard, her nephew Arator notices her lack of calmness.

"Aunt Vereesa I am certain she will come." He says in a soothing tone. The Silver Covenant Leader cannot help but snort. Arator is trying very hard to be a Paladin on measure with his father. Though Vereesa cannot remember the last time she met his father, she is certain that Arator is trying too hard.

"You don't know Sylvanas like I do, Arator. She is willful and strong. The strongest of us perhaps-"

"I didn't know my sister thought so highly of me." A voice from the darkness sneers. Both the High Elf Ranger and her half-Elf nephew turn to see a form in the shadows, a figure of great power of whom they had been waiting for.

Banshee Queen Sylvanas Windrunner, former Ranger-General and now Queen of the Forsaken. She walks from the shadows, allowing the nearby torches to lighten her blue skin.

"Has my sister forsaken her human husband for a half-elf lover?" Sylvanas asks her tone sly.

"Hardly Aunt Sylvanas." Arator turns to his undead Aunt with a strange expression. "My mother is Alleria, your sister. I have spent my life trying hard to find my father and it took a dread lord trying to destroy me before I realized that I still have family, family that I can find. You and Aunt Vereesa and Uncle Rhonin and the twins."

Sylvanas' expression does not waver from a blank slate as she walks closer to her nephew and sister. Vereesa does not embrace her though it is clear that she wants to.

"You couldn't have a girl?" The Forsaken Queen finally grumbles. It breaks whatever holds Vereesa back and she jumps into her sister's arms. The Forsaken Guards who have arrived seem a little distressed by the High Elf hugging their Queen, but Sylvanas does not care. She is unused to the contact of warm flesh but the idea of holding her sister once more is enough to push it aside.

"I wanted to come to you for so long, sister. And I even went to Argent Tournaments hoping to find you there. Thrall told me that if it was my desire he would order you to Dalaran but I couldn't do that to you. I wouldn't force you." Vereesa can feel her tears fall on Sylvanas' decorated breastplate as the undead Banshee hummed a childhood lullaby.

"I have missed you as well. But I had thought that you were perhaps better off without me." She faces her nephew, knowing that he would like to hug her but is concerned about the Holy magic that radiates from his body. "Well? Aren't you going to hug your Aunt? What are they teaching Paladins these days?"

Arator hopes he doesn't hurt her as he embraces both his Aunts. He never knew his mother and when he was hurt as a child, only had a kindly Draenei woman to heal him. But now he could almost believe that one of his Aunts could be a mother for a moment.

Something kicks him. His armor barely registers it as he raises his head from Sylvanas' shoulder. She too, has felt it and they stare at Vereesa… rather at her mid-section.

"Um…" Arator has no experience in these sorts of things, but unless his Aunt has developed a parasite… he has to guess that she's pregnant.

"Yes I am going to have another baby… rather two, the Priestesses tell me." Vereesa says, sounding amused. "Both girls. And it would be an honor to me, if I could name them Sylvanas and Alleria."

For a long moment the Forsaken Queen again stares at her sister. She is unaware of the tears that flow from her eyes as she places her cold hand against the armored belly of her sister and feels the young ones kick back.

"It would be a great honor to me, sister." She says softly. "A great honor."


	5. And Lover

Name: Storyteller's Dream

Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft.

Title: Honoring the Dead

Rating: T

Pairing: None

Notes: I don't know who wrote the poem in the summary, but for some reason it made me think of this story. This story will be mostly Lore Characters with a few of mine or a friend's mixed in. A great deal of these have my two favorite Highlords, Darion Mograine and Tirion Fordring. Neither get enough love. I'm sorry if these seem rushed, I think I'm a little rusty.

None of these One-shots are related.

Summary: Honor thy Father, Honor thy Mother, Honor thy Brother, Sister, and Lover. Honor thy Son, And thy Daughter. Honor thy Family and One Another. A collection of one-shots about Honoring the Dead.

_Lover…_

Her steps echo against the floor of the frozen hall as she makes her way to the dreaded Frozen Throne. She has not come to thank Bolvar for his sacrifice; no she has come to the throne to gather up the body of the man she once loved. She knows that everyone… possibly everyone would like to see his corpse rot but she can't. She loved him and it was that love that made her walk these steps to his body.

Lady Jaina Proudmoore of Theramore knows that Varian will see this as treason. When she had gone to him, asked him to help her because he was strong and could carry the body of Arthas Menethil, he had called her everything but a human and somewhere in that insulting tirade had told her no. So she had dropped the subject with him. She had thought to ask her friend, Thrall the Warchief of the Horde, but that would only create problems that would possibly lead to heartbreak. She knows that Thrall cares for her… but she cares for someone else and Arthas even stands in the way of that.

Tirion Fordring, the Highlord of the Argent Crusade and Co-commander of the Ashen Verdict had been her next thought to ask, but he was resting in Dalaran, nearly dragged there by the Ebon Blade Highlord Darion Mograine after giving his blessing to Bolvar along with a few threats. Of course, that meant that Death Knight was also in Dalaran, making sure that Tirion didn't escape the Priestesses at the Violet Hold.

This meant that she would have to take Arthas' body without anyone's help. She told herself she could do it. She would make herself do it. After all it was just Arthas and his plate armor wasn't it?

"Fancy meeting you around here, Lady Proudmoore."

The voice of the Death Knight Highlord startles her so much she gave a shriek. She spins around and stares at the young man who now leans against one of the support columns with his leg bent at the knee and his fingers laced behind his helmet-less head. She can't read his expression, but he seems to be mocking her.

"Highlord Mograine… yes it is a strange occurrence. Do you always scare people?"

"Only people I like." He says in a dry tone. She watches him straighten up from his stance and hears the sound of metal scrapping metal. His helmet is attached to his belt it would seem.

"Yes… well I would be rather grateful if you didn't scare me." She tries to sound like the Princess she is, but it seems lost on the Death Knight.

"Right… I'll keep that in consideration. Is there some particular reason you are heading to the Frozen Throne?" He is circling her now, close enough she can smell the oils from his armor and a hint of mage royal and silver leaf?

"I bathed while in Dalaran. I do still have a sense of smell. And trying to figure out how nice I smell is not going to change the fact that I will throw you over my shoulder and head back to the Ashen Verdict if you don't give me a good enough reason for you being in a restricted area."

"I'm going to get Arthas' body." She blurts out and watches as what might have been a hint of playfulness in the young man's face now vanishes behind a mask stronger than his helmet. "I want to bury him… to bury my love for him as well. It's time that I let go of Arthas and now I am. But I won't let his body rot… I can't Darion."

"I see."

"If you want to take me back to the Ashen Verdict, know that I will come back here when you aren't looking. I will not allow his body to be vandalized by Varian or Sylvanas. He was a good man-" Darion holds up one hand and she halts along with her breathing, afraid of what this man might say.

"I do know a few things about honor, Lady. However, Arthas is bigger than I am and I am more than certain you could not lift me. So what exactly are you going to do?" Once again he brings up the flaw in her plan and she starts to blush.

"Well I would have to drag him…"

"Oh yeah, that's going to work." He says sarcastically.

"Anyone ever mention you're an asshole, Highlord?" The question came out of her mouth before she managed to stop it.

"Sure, should hear Tirion. Anytime I want to be a real asshole I go drop in on him; perks up both our days." Jaina personally doubted it perked both their days up in the same way.

"Well? Are you coming or not?" Jaina turned and realized that while she had been standing there staring, Darion Mograine had started for the throne.

"I didn't ask your help-"

"Yes I know. It's called volunteering. Tirion's always telling me I need to do something nice once in a while. So here I am, doing my good deed for the day and helping you to honor the memory of your lover by taking his body somewhere to be buried. Speaking of burial, where did you have in mind?"

Darion Mograine was very kind to Jaina as they removed Arthas' body. She spared a glance towards Bolvar and wondered if he was aware. Darion didn't or wouldn't acknowledge the new Lich King as he lifted Arthas from the ground and placed him over his shoulders. It was obvious that Arthas was a strain on him despite the strength that has acquired from being a Warrior and a Death Knight.

The Frozen Throne vanishes as she brings them to Theramore Isle. It is not that she wants Arthas close; she wants to make sure the Cult of the Damned do not reach him. Before Darion can put down the body she teleports them to the Dalaran Crater. These hills would be Arthas' home. Darion raises an eyebrow but says nothing as he stares intently at two trees.

"I'm sorry Darion. I… I don't want him buried at Theramore. I loved Arthas, always will love him. But I won't make it easy for anyone to resurrect him." Jaina tells the Death Knight honestly.

"I'm a beast of burden in this matter, Lady." The trees start to shiver as if they are coming to life. It is only then that Jaina realized that he calling upon Deathchargers which were now crawling out the roots.

"How?" She can only think to ask.

"How do you suppose we got those giants into the Plaguelands when we were attacking Light's Hope?" Darion asks as he ties Arthas' body to one of the Deathchargers. "We're riding double, he can ride alone."

So she leads them, or rather directs Darion who refuses to allow her to touch the reins of his beloved horse, Iydallus. Fury, his other Deathcharger keeps up with them, no doubt listening to directions she cannot hear Darion give. The spot that she has chosen overlooks the capital of Lordaeron. A fitting tribute to its once Prince. Darion says nothing as he helps her off and begins to mark out a grave. She wants to help but the Highlord's gaze keeps her with the mount. So she looks at the face of the man she had once hoped to marry. It is clear he is starting to decay; she can smell it where she cannot smell it on Darion Mograine or any Death Knight. She brushes his hair from his face, wishing it were gold instead of white.

"I can prepare the body for the grave if you would like." Darion's voice is gruff, more than usual. But she doesn't notice it. Instead she turns and buries her face in his tabard much to his surprise. He gives her an awkward hug after a moment of uncertainty obviously unaware of what he should do in this situation.

"Thank you. Thank you…" she whispers over and over as Darion's hug finally becomes a comforting one.

"Women are strange creatures. I think this is why I have always had male Deathchargers. But you're welcome. Shall I prepare his body?"

At first Jaina wasn't sure what he meant until she saw a sack sitting off to the side. She opens it and realizes that it is bandages to wrap a corpse in, fluids and other embalming items. She stares into Darion's eyes and realizes that the only reason he had been in that hall was to get Arthas' body himself. The Highlord looks away and shrugs as he removes Arthas from Fury and then starts to take off his cobalt and saronite armor.

"You were planning to do this yourself."

"Only I was going to bury him in Light's Hope under a false name. I may have hated him in life and death, but I see no reason not to honor him. For the time he was sane, I'm told he was a good man."

"Yes," she says softly as she begins to hand the Death Knight the materials he requires, "he was."

The burial is complete. Arthas Menethil lies buried where only his former lover and commander know. She has done her final task and honored her lover. Oh, Varian did accuse her of treason, but it was the Highlord of the Ebon Blade who comes to her rescue. She senses a change in him as he does often come to Theramore Isle to perk up her day as she is certain he still perks up Tirion's.

Arthas is gone; she is no longer called his lover. Instead, she honors another by calling him her lover despite his strange ways and sarcastic attitude. She is the Lady of Theramore and he honors her by calling her the Lady of the Ebon Blade.


	6. Honor Thy Son

Name: Storyteller's Dream

Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft.

Title: Honoring the Dead

Rating: T

Pairing: None

Notes: I don't know who wrote the poem in the summary, but for some reason it made me think of this story. This story will be mostly Lore Characters with a few of mine or a friend's mixed in. A great deal of these have my two favorite Highlords, Darion Mograine and Tirion Fordring. Neither get enough love. I'm sorry if these seem rushed, I think I'm a little rusty.

None of these One-shots are related.

Summary: Honor thy Father, Honor thy Mother, Honor thy Brother, Sister, and Lover. Honor thy Son, And thy Daughter. Honor thy Family and One Another. A collection of one-shots about Honoring the Dead.

_Honor thy Son…_

It is only in the dead of night that he thinks upon his son and how he wishes things could be different.

He has taken back his home, Hearthsglen from those that had taken his son's life. He has only recently learned that they took his wife's as well. It pains him greatly, but his son… his beautiful boy.

Knowing that he could not change the course of time without destroying all that inspired him to reunite the Knights of the Silver Hand doesn't make the pain lessen. He wants his son. The boy whom he never got to tell how proud he was.

He has somewhat adopted Darion in Taelan's stead, but the Death Knight Highlord he knows is only tolerating it. Or perhaps Darion has adopted him too, seeing him as a second father to Alexandros. He doesn't mind, but it doesn't honor Taelan.

He feels the need to ride out, to visit the tower where Taelan was killed. He doesn't know why but he decides to take himself out there. Perhaps… maybe there are some answers.

Mirador is waiting for him at the entrance to Maldenholde. The Argent Crusaders are watching the old stallion warily but Mirador seems to be waiting on him.

"I see you my friend." Tirion Fordring says softly as he pats the brown on his neck. "Shall we take a ride?"

He nods to the Crusaders, giving them a firm to look to ensure that they will stay behind. He doesn't want to be bothered. Mirador walks slowly out of Hearthsglen as many stop and stare. He knows that they want to join him, to protect him but he isn't in the mood to be coddled.

The ride should be much longer he thinks as his heart breaks at the sight of the tower. He can see the battle that took his son right there as if it were happening again. He can see the fatal blast that takes his son; he can see the traitor that kills him.

Unaware he has dismounted from Mirador he walks up to the tower. There is nothing here, and yet he feels the need to inspect it. Nothing… but something shines in the darkness, a small fragile thing… his son's toy hammer.

"Oh Taelan…" He weeps as he kneels down, picking up the hammer and holding it close to his chest. This is his son's hammer, but what is his legacy? The Highlord, the Ashbringer weeps like a child, unable to hold back.

There is a presence at the door behind him. It takes him a great deal of time to realize he's being watched. Raising his head up from the floor he finds that he has cried himself to sleep.

"The Paladinsss will ssstart to wonder where you are." The hissing is a dead giveaway to the presence. It is a large white dragon perched just outside the doorway with large gleaming blue eyes that remind him of a Death Knight.

"Dragon." The Highlord acknowledges as he uncurls himself from his position around the tiny hammer. The Dragon dips its head before a flash of light leaves him staring at a Blood Elf Death Knight. Tirion frowns, most Dragons would not take the form of a Death Knight.

"Most Dragons don't understand what it is like to loose someone you truly care for. Death Knights know much about sacrifice and I would rather honor them than some Mage that doesn't get their head out of a book but for a few minutes." The Blood Elf / Dragon says as if reading his mind. "My name is… rather difficult for mortals to say so we'll just say it's Keinos. You shouldn't be out here. It's not safe for a mortal your age."

"I know what's safe and what's not!" Tirion snaps at the Dragon before feeling embarrassed. The Dragon did not deserve his anger.

"Be angry at me if you wish. I make it a personal mission to have Mograine trying to kill me just to take his mind off the acts he had committed while under the Lich King's control." The Blood Elf smirks. "It pays to be a Dragon when he's angry."

"I've never met a white dragon before." Tirion says softly as the 'Death Knight' helps him up.

"Unlikely you will ever again. I am a Bronze and Red Flight mix. We are very few and far between. I've just… found a reason to enter this world once more." Keinos says in a manner that meant he would not answer Tirion's questions on that subject should they arise.

"Why are you here then?"

"You grieve for your son."

"I don't believe you need to be a Dragon to figure that out." Tirion points out dryly.

"If I told you that no matter if I take you back to that time and place, he'll still die, will that change anything?" Tirion doesn't answer.

"If I told you that I could bring him back from the dead, exactly like he was before he died; removing him from the comfort of the Light would you want me to?"

There was a question. He could have his son, but everything has a price and judging by the hidden meanings that one question, Tirion knows that the price would be high. But he could have his son back. He could have…

He would be no better than Arthas.

"No. No, I don't want you to bring him back. I wouldn't want you to. Not even if the Queen of Life herself offered I could not do that to my son." Keinos nods.

"If it helps, your son did see you before he died. It was his last wish. You grieve him, and I can understand though I cannot relate to the loss of a son for I have no hatchlings. But you can grieve yourself to death and this world is in dire need of you. You could honor your son though, by forging forward and letting yourself heal enough to take a lover, a wife… perhaps sire another son. It wouldn't be shaming your family by having another. In truth, it would probably put their souls to rest."

"I… don't know how to begin again." Tirion finally admits. The Blood Elf disappears and now he stares once more into an eye that is as big as his torso.

"It isss jussst thisss sssimple. One ssstep at a time. You are the Asssbringer. You will live far longer than mossst mortalsss becaussse the Flightsss honor you. Do not ssspend your time alone."

The Dragon jumps skyward and Tirion backs up as the dirt swirls in his eyes. When the dust settles he sees that Mirador is standing there beside a Paladin and her horse. It is obvious she is worried, unable to decide if she should look after him or be screaming for guards to take down the white drake.

"Highlord, are you well?" She decides to leave the drake alone and care for her Commander.

"Yes, Paladin. Let's get back to Hearthsglen shall we? I have much to think about."


	7. And Thy Daughter

Name: Storyteller's Dream

Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft.

Title: Honoring the Dead

Rating: T

Pairing: None

Notes: I don't know who wrote the poem in the summary, but for some reason it made me think of this story. This story will be mostly Lore Characters with a few of mine or a friend's mixed in. A great deal of these have my two favorite Highlords, Darion Mograine and Tirion Fordring. Neither get enough love. I'm sorry if these seem rushed, I think I'm a little rusty.

None of these One-shots are related.

Summary: Honor thy Father, Honor thy Mother, Honor thy Brother, Sister, and Lover. Honor thy Son, And thy Daughter. Honor thy Family and One Another. A collection of one-shots about Honoring the Dead.

_And Thy Daughter…_

She is dead, his most loyal and traitorous whelp. He finds that this angers him for the foolish King now hangs her head above the arches of his city. But that is changing, he is ready to reenter this world and destroy this precious city of Stormwind. His anger has taken a form of its own now and he will destroy this world!

He takes flight, breaking free of his confides to roar his awakening and let everyone know that he is free… free to destroy Azeroth.

"I MAY NOT CARE MUCH ABOUT MY TRAITOROUSSS FLIGHT HUMANSSS! BUT YOU WILL PAY FOR THE INSSSULT TO MY BLOOD!" His roar is words that no one but another Dragon can understand and those who hear shudder in fear.

Onyxia was a traitorous Black Dragon, a Queen in her own right. Dead she is a symbol of what Humans can do. Dead, she is a symbol of why Neltharion, Deathwing, the Fallen Aspect of Earth would willingly destroy one city and curse the Line of Stormwind's Kings.

Author Note: Yes I know this is a rather short one-shot. To be all honest, I couldn't think of a Father-Daughter pairing other than this and then I couldn't figure out how to use it. So I remembered that something I read once said that Deathwing took great pleasure in destroying the Park District of Stormwind because of his daughter's humiliating defeat and her head being hung up on the arches.


	8. Honor Thy Family

Name: Storyteller's Dream

Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft.

Title: Honoring the Dead

Rating: T

Pairing: None

Notes: I don't know who wrote the poem in the summary, but for some reason it made me think of this story. This story will be mostly Lore Characters with a few of mine or a friend's mixed in. A great deal of these have my two favorite Highlords, Darion Mograine and Tirion Fordring. Neither get enough love. I'm sorry if these seem rushed, I think I'm a little rusty.

None of these One-shots are related.

Summary: Honor thy Father, Honor thy Mother, Honor thy Brother, Sister, and Lover. Honor thy Son, And thy Daughter. Honor thy Family and One Another. A collection of one-shots about Honoring the Dead.

_Honor thy Family…_

No one notices him as he walks into the tavern. He isn't one to announce his presence anyway. He settles at a table near the door and listens to the people as they talk. There is much to learn. He wants to learn one thing however, the fate of his family.

"I heard the Vadu place is going up for sale." One of the patrons says laughing.

"Oh yeah? How'd you get so lucky to get that bitch to move out?" One of his friends laughs.

"Move out? Ha! There's more than one way to clear the land. Pity about the little girl. She was a cutie." The men laugh and leave no room for imagination as to what happened. The newest patron has tensed and reached for his blade.

"Wouldn't do that if I was you."

The voice belongs to someone that resembles a warrior and very familiar with orange-red hair. Sitting just about him he has clearly heard everything said. He's staring at the cup in front of him very intently as if he thinks the liquid is going to get out of the cup and move.

"You're not me now are you?" The warrior shrugs and turns his attention to the patron. His eyes flash blue as he drains his cup.

"I'm not, Death Knight. But if you want revenge, I wouldn't do it here. Take care of your revenge outside where it's you and him and not you, him, and his buddies." He stands up and shakes him though no one notices. "Why don't you go home?"

After a few moments of watching the men drank, Stefan Vadu does just what the strange man says.

Peter Hangwright has always wanted two things; the Vadu Manor and its caretaker, Claire. Claire has always rebuffed his advances, staying true to her husband, Stefan, lost in Northrend. Peter hated Stefan as a child and hates him even though he's dead. But he got her good, and their daughter Emma.

Now as he rides towards his new home he hums, greatly enjoying himself. But the woods around him hold many dark shadows that he is becoming aware of. He is starting to sober up as he reaches the Manor and notices that someone is already there. He can see them, a dark shadow standing over two fresh graves.

He has decided that whoever they are, they are on his property.

"Hey! Hey you! What are you doing? Get off my property!" He snarls.

The form turns and he can tell it is a pale man. He has two swords sheathed at his sides and seems rather… disturbing.

"You must be mistaken. This property belongs to Stefan Vadu, his wife Claire, and daughter Emma." The voice is hollow but familiar, has Peter heard this voice before?

"Not anymore! There is no more Vadu. I own this land." Peter pulls his shotgun out and without thinking puts two rounds into the man's chest. The man falls over the graves and lays there unmoving.

"Ha, now let's see who you are!" Peter sneers but his sneers turn to whimpers as the man stands up. There is a difference now, his hood from his cloak as blown back. Now Peter knows who is. "Stefan!"

"Hello Peter, you little worm. You killed my wife and daughter!" The Death Knight lunges for the man and grabs him by the throat before lifting him into the air.

"Mercy! Mercy Stefan!" He cries, wishing for the Death Knight to release him.

"Mercy? Did you show mercy to my wife and child? No, I didn't think so." The Death Knight's eyes blaze with newfound anger. "Your family served mine. Now you will serve me too."

Screams rent the air, noticed by many but they were too afraid to approach. Everyone knew that what Peter had done was wrong. A few days before, a traveler, a young warrior with orange-red hair came through and mentioned that Stefan Vadu was a Death Knight, returning home from the war. Claire had been ready to receive her husband, dead or alive. Emma wanted to play with Daddy's pretty horse.

Now several days later, Stefan come to town with a new minion. He has a letter to send, to a niece in Stormwind. Everyone keeps their distance. The new minion has a name.

Peter.


	9. And One Another

Name: Storyteller's Dream

Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft.

Title: Honoring the Dead

Rating: T

Pairing: None

Notes: I don't know who wrote the poem in the summary, but for some reason it made me think of this story. This story will be mostly Lore Characters with a few of mine or a friend's mixed in. A great deal of these have my two favorite Highlords, Darion Mograine and Tirion Fordring. Neither get enough love. I'm sorry if these seem rushed, I think I'm a little rusty.

None of these One-shots are related.

Summary: Honor thy Father, Honor thy Mother, Honor thy Brother, Sister, and Lover. Honor thy Son, And thy Daughter. Honor thy Family and One Another. A collection of one-shots about Honoring the Dead.

_And One Another._

She's dying and she knows it. It's odd to think that she has died once and now will die again. She tries to sit up, but her body doesn't want to move. The runes that have held her together for so long are failing.

"Sedaris."

She looks up at the Death Knight who speaks her name. He is a Tauren, a companion she has had for so long.

"Hey Garis." The Night Elf twitches her lips and feels pain explode through her body. Anyone that said Death Knights didn't feel obviously has never asked them. The Tauren bull kneels beside her fallen form, moving the breastplate aside so to inspect the wound.

"Your runes have been damaged. With your rune blade destroyed you cannot regenerate them." His voice is monotone but soft. He fixes her with a gaze that she knows is his attempt at compassion.

"I guess that's what happens… when your leader orders you to kill your best friend and you hesitate." The Night Elf lies back on the ground, gasping as the cold comes for her once more. Then time though, she will truly die. "Do you remember the Emerald Dream… Garis?"

"I remember."

"I will see you there… friend."

The runes darken and vanish, almost immediately the body of Sedaris Ebonwood begins to decay. Garis stands watch over the fallen body before lifting it into his arms.

"What are you doing fool?" The speaker is an Orc, a living one that should be thankful for heroes like Sedaris.

"Honoring my ally with a decent burial." Garis replies calmly as he makes to leave the area.

"Traitor!" The Orc roars and everyone hears. But the Death Knight doesn't care as he steps through the gate towards his home. The Orc is foolish and follows him. He will make sure the traitor dies.

His first reaction is shock when he finds himself standing before the Highlord of the Ebon Blade and his Second-in-Command. Both were speaking with the Tauren. The Orc does what most would refer to as suicide; he attacks the first human that he sees, the Highlord of the Ebon Blade.

Darion's attacks are not held back by anything. He attacks and he defeats. But he has a clear message for anyone that feels the need to fight in the Ebon Hold. He sends the Orc back to the new Warchief… in pieces.

In the Ebon Hold, the Death Knights honor one another. Let them rest in peace or you will rest in pieces.

~End


End file.
